


Amends

by gimmefire



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Drunk Sex, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-02
Updated: 2011-12-02
Packaged: 2017-12-03 15:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/699519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Brazil 2011. Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/699506">Nothing Happened</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amends

**Author's Note:**

> Beta by [mackem](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mackem).

"Doesn't it look a bit strange, you comin' to a hotel? In Brazil?" Lewis pauses, blinks slowly, then elaborates. "Where you live?"

He's had plenty of alcohol tonight. He'd had enough, he'd decided, right before having two more drinks. He thinks it was just two. It'd all gone a bit fuzzy by that point.

Whatever alcohol he'd left behind, however, seems to have been drunk by Felipe Massa. The Brazilian is leaning so heavily against the wall in Lewis's room, it looks as though he might soon merge with it. Felipe snorts and makes a vague gesture.

"You think I should take you to my house?" he responds, all the words strung together, not so much passing his lips as falling out of them in a heap.

"W-- no, man-- where is Raffaela, anyway? She's not..." An absurd thought crosses Lewis's mind, and he grins. "She's not waiting outside in a taxi, right?"

Felipe gives a laugh that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and Lewis feels something inside him unclench, the lingering traces of unease flowing out of him. This is the most he and Felipe have said to one another in person in months. Since Singapore, in fact. Since sharing a lift. And a bed. 'Fanculo, Felipe had hissed at him, dark eyes shining even darker than usual. The mark high up on his inner thigh has only just faded away. The memories clatter noisily through his bleary mind and make his face heat up. Thinking about it, they hadn't really said much to one another that night...

"Is okay," Felipe says with a very loose shake of the head, bringing Lewis's attention back to the fore. "She doesn't wait. Is just me."

"Just you," Lewis echoes. He's not fully sure why Felipe has shown up at his door - they'd been texting one another for most of the night, but in his no doubt clumsy fingered state, autocorrect had done so much damage to Felipe's last message that Lewis hadn't been able to make much sense of it - but he has an idea. _Is just me._

"We gonna...should we talk, like, properly, or--" Lewis swallows, then grimaces. His mouth feels unpleasant. "I dunno."

" _No,_ " Felipe says with surprising conviction. "I don't want to. We say many things--"

"But you kept sayin' stuff about wanting to talk," Lewis presses.

" _We say many things,_ " Felipe repeats with a trace of irritation, then pats his chest with a loose fist. "I don't care. For me, is finished." He pushes himself up a little and slides along the wall until he's close enough for Lewis to smell caipirinhas, sweat and aftershave. "I don't care. Is just..."

Felipe licks his lips, head resting against the wall, raising a leaden looking hand that utterly fails to make contact with Lewis before it drops back down. He gestures at Lewis with his shoulder and speaks much more clearly than before, eyes hazy but sincere. "I miss you."

Lewis exhales sharply, the words striking him harder than he expected them to. "Miss you too, man," he murmurs. He closes the gap between them, moving to rest his forehead against Felipe's and letting his eyes slip shut.

The hug he'd given Felipe amidst the post-race atmosphere of elation and exhaustion had felt even better than he'd anticipated, like an ache being washed off his bones. At the time, he'd quietly hoped that it had felt the same for Felipe; on tonight's evidence, it seemed it had.

Lewis opens his eyes to see Felipe's hand resting flat against his chest, thumb rubbing the collar of his t-shirt.

"Is finished," Felipe says softly, his voice thick. "Please."

Lewis feels himself smiling again. "Yeah. Please."

The words have barely left him before Felipe tilts his head and presses his lips to the corner of Lewis's mouth, a sweet invitation that almost undoes Lewis right where he stands. Any anxious half-formed questions he might've had - _what about...why did you...what if I..._ \- slip away unnoticed into the quiet darkness.

His hand fumbles along Felipe's arm to cup the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair, not willing to let him pull away for a moment. Felipe mumbles unintelligibly into Lewis's mouth as they find and sprawl gratefully on the bed, squirming and clambering unsteadily until he's positioned on his elbows and knees straddling Lewis's body. Lewis lifts his head in search of slow, wet kisses and the heat of Felipe's skin under his tongue. Felipe's open collar teases him; he licks at the hollow of his throat, the ridge of his collarbone, and sucks at the skin he finds until it makes Felipe whimper.

Felipe does his best to reciprocate, clasping the side of Lewis's head with one hand and clumsily bringing their mouths together again. Moving inelegantly he kneels astride Lewis's thigh, legs spreading until he can rock his hips against the muscular limb. The hand at Lewis's face slides down his torso to his crotch, groping at the hardening flesh beneath denim. Lewis groans, thrusting into the hand and digging fingertips into Felipe's hip.

Neither of them make any serious attempt at the complicated task of undressing, more concerned as they are with avoiding a clash of teeth or a bitten tongue. Eager hands and eager mouths draw out ragged moans, growing more urgent once jeans are unbuttoned and restrictive fabric is no longer a barrier to either of them. It doesn't take long before Lewis comes into Felipe's hand with a hoarse cry, the sound of Felipe reaching his own climax ringing through his ears.

Once the haze of his orgasm has faded away, Lewis opens his eyes and meets Felipe's gaze, who smiles widely at him, eyelids heavy. He sinks down, nosing affectionately at Lewis's jaw before seeking out his lips. For some reason, he chuckles into their messy, languid kiss; though he's not sure why, Lewis chuckles too.

Felipe lies half draped over Lewis's body, arm slung across him, resting his head on Lewis's chest once they break the kiss. Lewis briefly considers the idea of rolling him away - not out of discomfort, just mischief, especially if he were to roll all the way off the bed - but it melts right out of him almost as soon as it appears, finding the weight of the other man comfortable. He smiles to himself, traces his fingertips along the hollow of Felipe's spine, and sighs.

No teeth tonight, no blood spilled, no wounds opened or reopened. No fury in their movements. A world away from Singapore, physically and mentally.

"Hey, if you're gonna be sick or somethin', make sure you do it over the side of the bed, yeah?" Lewis advises softly with a slight slurr and a chuckle, tugging lightly at the hair on top of Felipe's head, twisting it around his finger. "You hear me?"

Felipe makes a wholly ambiguous noise, frowns a little, and keeps his eyes firmly closed.


End file.
